


Fluffy Socks

by ahhtaestea



Series: The Soulmates From Afar [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Soulmates, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahhtaestea/pseuds/ahhtaestea
Summary: Mark always wanted to have that one pair of fluffy socks.Donghyuck happened to be that pair.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: The Soulmates From Afar [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038490
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	Fluffy Socks

Since I was young, I’d always been intrigued by the idea of soulmates. The thought of having someone who was perfect for you in every way possible, who would accept you and all your flaws, someone who even the universe approved of. A special someone specifically fitted for you, someone who couldn’t be stolen from you or someone you couldn’t change. Besides, you wouldn’t want to change them for the world.

Your soulmate would be that special addition to your otherwise trivial life. Not your other half, but someone who would be the sun on a rainy day, or the blanket on a stormy night.

My soulmate would be like that second pair of socks you’d receive for Christmas, the ones that matched with your first pair. The both of them would be all wrapped up in a little box with sparkly wrapping paper and a pretty bow on top.

That second pair would be fluffy and warm, comfort for when the snow hits, solace for when the grips of loneliness attempt to steal you away from the warmth of your surprisingly good day. They would be your favourite. And yeah, maybe you did receive a pair of fluffy socks for Christmas and not that new game you wanted, but these little gems were worth so much more, mattered so much more.

I would wear those fluffy socks every day, tell them how soft they are and how great of a present they were. Make sure they knew they were appreciated - show them the same love they showed me.

I liked to think of my soulmate like that. Something inseparable. You may lose them, or argue with them, but eventually they’ll always find their way back to you.

That idea of soulmates was simply too perfect for me. It became a drifting dream to have someone as great as that for many, many years. Someone who would love me until there was no more love left (and we all know that love is eternal).

I was 14 when my parents were the first ones to break this perfect concept of mine.

One day, my dad went out to work as usual, but when he came home he realised that his favourite socks were missing. He was slightly upset since he’d never lost them before, but by the evening, one of them had returned.

However, as the days went on and as he searched for his other sock, he couldn’t find it. Some nights both of them were missing, others it was only one. But eventually, one day he came home from work and lost both socks, and since then he’d never seen them since.

I tried looking for his favourite socks relentlessly. I hated seeing my dad so downtrodden and lost without them. Their disappearance also affected me greatly, but I didn’t want to show him that. He’d already lost something he held close to him.

Months passed and my dad decided to go back to the shop to find another pair of fluffy socks. They weren’t the same; there was no way they could ever come close to being as warm or soft as his first pair were. But he was desperate and so this rip-off, harsh, cold pair of holey, grey socks sufficed.

From then on, the idea of soulmates was so flawed that I began to loathe myself for even imagining something so ludicrous. Kids in my high school would get into these pointless relationships that lasted no longer than a week or two, claiming their significant other to be their second pair of socks only to bin them days later. I hated the idea of love, and the word ‘soulmates’ no longer existed in my vocabulary.

I was 19 when I was reintroduced to the idea of soulmates.

I’d met someone, someone special. He was bubbly and warm, rude and disrespectful yet always in a bantering way. He had a mouth rich with curses and insults, yet a heart full of gold and sunshine, and his name happened to be Lee Donghyuck.

We began as friends, something pure and natural, no added feelings. He was fun. I liked hanging out with him.

I was 20 when I realised that perhaps I did like Donghyuck a little bit more than friends would. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was like torture. But even then, describing it as torture seemed far too harsh.

Whenever his name popped into my mind, all I could think of was questions. I wanted to know so much more about him, about myself, about what I was feeling for him. I yearned for this forbidden knowledge, tempted for answers as Eve was tempted for the apple in the Garden of Eden.

Eventually, I came to grips with myself and admitted my feelings for this boy who had effortlessly stolen my heart.

With this epiphany came one final question, one that scared me more than I’d like to admit:

Did he like me back?

It was a chilly day when Donghyuck showed up at my doorstep, that stupidly flawless smile of his charming me in a way none other’s had.

He walked into my house, greeted my dad and went straight up to my room. It was such a simple string of events, yet they all seemed so terribly complex to me. That single question floated in my mind like a wisp of smoke in that of an asthmatic’s lungs - suffocating, restraining, terrifying, hindering.

Donghyuck sat down on the floor, looking up at me with those sparkling eyes of his and pulled me over to sit with him. He placed his head on my shoulder and closed his eyes like they do in the movies.

“Mark,” he said softly. “I have something to tell you.”

I hummed in response, thinking only of my racing heartbeat at our close proximity.

“You’re an amazing friend, and I love you for that.” He said.

It shouldn’t have, but it did. It hurt like hell.

My heart felt as if it’d been shattered, crumbled, cracked. I hated that I felt like all of this because of one stupid boy. I shouldn’t let someone else hurt me in the ways that he had, but I simply couldn’t help myself.

I began to wonder, is that what my dad felt like? When he lost his favourite pair of socks forever, did he begin to crumble inside like this? Did his heart shatter when momma told him she didn’t love him anymore?

I suppose these situations are far from comparable, but still, there had to be some similarity?

Donghyuck shuffled around from where he was sitting, snuggling further into my arm.

“But I’d like to love you as more than that,” he whispered, and my heart very nearly stopped. “You’re truly an amazing friend, but I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like if you were my amazing boyfriend.”

I momentarily stopped breathing as his confession threw me off. I didn’t expect this, I wasn’t prepared for this, what was I meant to do?

“I like you, Mark Lee.” He said quietly.

I exploded with some unknown joy.

My heart swelled as my mind blanked. After all this time, I’d finally heard those five words I never knew I needed to hear so desperately.

“And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, because I’m willing to risk my own happiness and comfort for yours.”

I ignored his statement.

“Donghyuck, can I kiss you?”

My voice quivered with nerves as I felt anxiety build up in me at an erratic pace.

Donghyuck smiled brightly. So brightly that my skin tingled like the sun itself was shining on me.

“Yes you can, Mark.”

And so I kissed him gently, softly, passionately, and the idea of having your very own second pair of fluffy socks opened itself back up to me.

Now as I sit here, old and frail, pathetically retelling the events of my love life before I am sent off to my final destination, I can’t help but smile.

Because not once did I lose my second pair of soft, fluffy socks.

And because out of every other pair I could’ve chosen, I chose him.

He was always my favourite anyways.


End file.
